Breakfast
by frostygossamer
Summary: Two Winchesters walk into a diner.


Summary: Two Winchesters walk into a diner.

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Breakfast by frostygossamer

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It was a crisp January morning when Sam and Dean walked into the cheery gingham-curtained diner in Nowhereville Idaho, hungry for breakfast. The bell over the door tinkled pleasantly and the big guy serving at the counter looked up with a toothy smile.

"Hi there friends! What can I get you?", he sang out happily.

Dean glanced up at the specials board. "Two early-birds", he said. "And two coffees".

"Black", Sam interjected emphatically. He was nursing a minor hangover.

"And a side of fries", Dean added loudly.

They sat down at a gingham-clad table.

"Can you keep the noise down", Sam hissed grumpily, closing his eyes and pressing his fingers on his temples.

Dean snickered. "Who hasn't gotten laid lately?", he chuckled.

"You really need to get lucky, Sammy. That's what you need. Take the snap right outa your cracker!".

"Yeah, well, it's not so much I've not gotten lucky with women as I've gotten kinda unlucky with them", Sam pointed out.

Dean ignored that blind alley.

"I think maybe you've gotten sorta frightened of women", he pushed.

"Don't think so, Dean", Sam replied flatly.

"Oh yeah", Dean retorted. "Now me, I am totally easy with women. Any and all women. Never been frightened by a woman, no sir!".

"Yeah, you're totally easy. That's right", Sam agreed.

At that moment the food arrived. Dean gave the pretty waitress a big sunny smile and she smiled back. He shot Sam a look like "There, see what I mean!".

Dean dived straight into his stack of pancakes smothered in gooey maple syrup with crisp bacon on the side plus a mound of sausages and scrambled eggs.

Sam toyed with his meal half-heartedly. It made him feel a bit squeamish watching Dean eat. He would have felt better if Dean hadn't seemed to be trying to get it all in his mouth at the same time.

After watching him for a few moments Sam broke the silence.

"You know what I think", he said mischievously. "I think the real reason you hit on every woman you see is because you don't want people to think that we're gay".

Dean looked like he'd been insulted.

"They may think you're gay", he argued. "You look kinda gay. But no way are they gonna think that I'm gay. I am so not gay".

Dean grinned ferociously and, in what Sam thought was kinda an inappropriate gesture, he shoved a sausage into his mouth and bit it in half nastily.

Sam winced involuntarily and crossed his legs under the table, turning his face to the street window.

"O-oh", he observed. "Traffic ticket on the horizon".

A overweight lady traffic cop was leaning on the hood of the Impala in the process of writing out a parking ticket.

"My baby is so not illegally parked", Dean exclaimed, leaping to his feet and running to his car's assistance.

Sam followed Dean outside slowly, to find him in conversation with the obese patrolwoman.

"Too late", the cop chuckled. "Ticket's already filled out. Sorry, but that s just the way it is. You are illegally parked".

Dean visibly switched up into sweet-talk mode.

"Now, darlin', what could I do to make that ticket disappear?", he asked charmingly, leaning closer.

The wobble-belly looked him up and down slowly, then gave him a big saucy wink.

"Well, there's one or two things I can think of right off, sweet cheeks", she hinted, rubbing her enormous self up against him, suggestively.

Somehow she had managed to get Dean between her and the bumper. As she pressed into him he was forced to lean back over the hood, pretty soon she'd have him horizontal.

Dean looked, well, kinda like a scandalized virgin.

Seeing this, Sam took a step forward to stand between the predator and his brother.

"Sorry ma'am", he smiled, grasping Dean's hand. "This one's not available. He belongs to me".

Officer Fats took them both in in one glance. "Kinda thought you must be pitching for the other team.", she said, like "You'd have to be not to appreciate everything this sexy female has to offer".

"What a waste!", she grumbled, and clicked her teeth as she sashayed away.

"Close call, bro", Dean hissed. "But, please, don't do that again. I got a rep to keep".

With that he pulled up his collar Brando-style and walked back into the diner with an overly butch John Wayne gait.

His breakfast was calling.

The End

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A/N: The sizist sentiment in the above piece is not mine. I hope I haven't offended anyone. I was just trying to see through Dean's eyes and Dean is not exactly PC.


End file.
